


A Feeling and A Face

by Mike_H



Series: MadaTobi Week [27]
Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mike_H/pseuds/Mike_H
Summary: Prompt:There was only one bed(fromMadaTobi Week 2020).
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: MadaTobi Week [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1095441
Comments: 17
Kudos: 102
Collections: MadaTobi Week 2020





	A Feeling and A Face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deeambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeambles/gifts).



> Prompt: _There was only one bed_ (from **[MadaTobi Week 2020](https://madatobiweek.tumblr.com/post/190438469506/madatobi-week-2020-prompts)** ).

Madara wakes to Tobirama's gaze upon him.

Tobirama, by his side upon the bed they'd been forced to share, collared in shadow. His eyes are dark things, tracing the contours of Madara's face, sharp and intent.

How strange, Madara muses, to not be waking up alone.

Earlier, they had stumbled into this safe house, stumbled into this bed, graceless and worn out. Madara's back had scarcely hit the thin mattress before darkness claimed him.

Now, moonlight spills through the open window, illuminating what parts of this room it can reach.

And Tobirama is a silhouette beside him. His hand upon Madara's hip, trailing upward. Long fingers tracing the map of scarred flesh upon Madara's belly, his bruised ribs, his chest that aches with something Madara does not want to think about.

Tobirama's hand, along his collarbone. Fingers around his neck. He lingers there, palm warm against the bob of Madara's Adam's apple.

Madara's heart beats a frantic rhythm. He's certain Tobirama can feel the rapid flutter of his pulse beneath his fingertips.

Tobirama's fingers, around his throat, tightening. It is a brief thing, but it feels like an age.

Breath halts in Madara's lungs. He feels like time has halted with it. Everything fades out till there is nothing but the sensation of Tobirama's fingers digging into Madara's flesh, the pressure of his palm against his throat.

Tobirama could crush his windpipe with one hand. Madara has seen him do it. The very thought thrills him. Makes him hard.

Tobirama breathes silently, yet it is the loudest thing in the dark. Or perhaps that's the sound of Madara trying to breathe. He's not sure which. All he's aware of is Tobirama, above him. A demon, pale as lunar light, raiment of shadow upon him.

He is beautiful.

Black edges into his vision. Black, like Tobirama's eyes, knowing and hungry.

His hand, upon Madara's throat. His mouth, upon Madara's.

And all at once, Madara can breathe. Perhaps it is because Tobirama has loosened his grip. Perhaps he is stealing Tobirama's breath to fill his starving lungs. It matters not. Madara kisses back, inhaling Tobirama, drowning in all that he is.

Tobirama's body is warm. He is pressed so close, yet Madara presses closer still. It is _Tobirama_ he wants. His hands, his mouth, his _strength._

Madara wants him inside. Wants him all over. Wants to feel Tobirama till he feels none else.

  


* * *

  


Tobirama speaks with hands that roam, avaricious, unrestrained, over Madara's body. His are hands that say, _Want._ Say, _Everything._

And Madara is only too willing to give.

Tobirama's hand beneath his knee. He pushes inside and Madara can barely breathe. Everything hurts. Hurts so much it's a kind of deep pleasure. Madara is dizzy with it.

He can feel every inch of Tobirama's cock inside him. Tobirama's scent, his warmth, enveloping him. He pulls out, pushes back in, hard and sharp. No gentleness in his thrusts.

Madara cries out. His moans are too loud in this silent place. It makes him feel like they're the only ones left in the world. Madara wants it. How he craves it, to live in a world where none else can steal Tobirama's attention.

He reaches down, wraps his hand around his own cock, jerks himself off in time to Tobirama's thrusts. Tobirama's gaze, darkening. He sets a brutal pace. Madara feels like he might break beneath the force of it.

Heat, inside him. Pleasure builds and builds. Madara knows he is about to come. He is close, so _close_ —

And Tobirama pulls out.

Confusion lances through the haze of pleasure, and Madara's about to demand an explanation when he feels Tobirama's weight shift off of him.

"What — "

Tobirama's mouth. Soft upon the inside of his thigh.

All protest dies upon Madara's lips. It feels good as much as it is strange, discordant. Tobirama's kisses are gentle, almost reverent. He mouths his way along Madara's thigh to the side of his knee, kisses his way back up.

Then Tobirama is looming over him again, cock against Madara's hole, thrusting back in.

A cry escapes Madara's lips. It startles him to realize he is capable of such sound. How empty it had felt, without Tobirama inside him. He clenches hard around Tobirama's cock. His arms and legs come to wrap around Tobirama, needing him close.

Tobirama kisses him. He is ravenous, devouring. The taste of him, a storm upon Madara's tongue.

Then Tobirama is pulling away, pulling out of him again.

Madara wants to scream, but Tobirama's mouth is upon his belly. He kisses the scars there, lips marking a heated trail along ruined skin. His fingers are tender things along Madara's sides.

"Tobirama — " Madara begins, but no other words come. He does not know what to say. There is a riot inside his mind and a hollowness inside him. He aches. With pleasure, with pain, with longing, he does not know.

Tobirama makes him feel wanted. Unmoored. Less alone.

Tobirama makes him _feel._

"Please," Madara says, even if he does not know what he truly means.

But Tobirama seems to understand anyway. He places a soft kiss upon Madara's hipbone. Then he rises and repositions himself, sheathes himself inside Madara again.

He takes Madara harder. His hand, callus-rough around Madara's cock. He strokes, once, twice, then his grip loosens and he's pulling out again.

Tobirama's tongue, along Madara's balls.

Madara gasps, his legs spreading wider, his hand coming to grip Tobirama's hair. He does not know if he's trying to push Tobirama away or keep him there. Tobirama's tongue, the moist heat of it, along his oversensitized skin. It's too much. It takes all of Madara's willpower to keep from coming.

"Tobirama, don't, _fuck_ — "

And Tobirama is kissing him, does not stop kissing him, even as he finds his way back into Madara's body.

Madara clings to him, so tight there is not an inch of space between them. His fingers dig into Tobirama's sweat-slick back. His thighs are vise-tight around Tobirama's waist.

They kiss like the world would end if they stopped. Madara doesn't mind. He would not care as long as Tobirama stayed.

When he feels Tobirama pull away, when the distance between their bodies begins to grow, Madara clings ever tighter. His nails are desperate hooks sinking into Tobirama's flesh.

"Don't," Madara begs. And it scares him, knowing that Tobirama sees everything when he looks at him. Knowing he's _letting_ Tobirama see. There is a part of him that yearns to stubbornly cling to what tatters of his pride are left.

But it is too late for that now.

So he looks into the dark lakes of Tobirama's eyes and says, "I want to come with you inside me."

And Tobirama's eyes. They spark like the glint of a blade in the shadows. He speaks but a word.

_"Madara."_

His hips, snapping forward in a hard thrust. His mouth, upon Madara's. His kiss is an attack, this savage thing. Madara shivers beneath the force of it.

So much power in Tobirama's hold. His body pressed so close, he is all Madara feels.

Orgasm rips through him. It shatters him from the inside out and Madara chokes on a sob, hides his face in the crook of Tobirama's neck. His scream is muffled against the heat of Tobirama's flesh. He can feel Tobirama's pulse beneath his lips.

Tobirama comes at the same time. Madara knows this, feels it in the way Tobirama's body tenses, the sharp hiss of his breath, the way he presses deep, so deep.

His hand, caressing Madara's side, up, up, up till he reaches Madara's jaw. Tobirama's thumb, stroking the corner of Madara's mouth.

He speaks with this hand that roams like his eyes upon Madara's face.

Madara holds Tobirama's gaze. In it, he reads _everything._


End file.
